


Magic

by habitualsarcasm



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Carriers and breeders, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Shockwave has a herd, Slow Build, Soundwave is the best creator ever, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Starscream doesn't know what he's up against, Starscream's trinemates are major dorks about this whole thing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, high-grade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habitualsarcasm/pseuds/habitualsarcasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The femmes win the war and establish their own elite carrier-dominated society. Starscream is a carrier, with two goals in mind - purchase a creator, and dominate. Soundwave is on the market, trying to make himself inconspicuous. But being the only one who doesn't clamour for the seeker's attention...has an unintended outcome, and now he isn't sure how to go about being Starscream's breeder. (On the brightside, the penthouse has a very nice view.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Soundwave is in quite the bind.

Starscream is content with the turnout. The femmes have managed to outwit both Autobots and Decepticons in the battle for Cybertron's future, and they've established a system that benefits him greatly.

The new Cybertron is a carrier-dominant society. According to the femmes, carriers are more rational and more willing to efficiently cooperate with others, which makes them better candidates for positions of authority. Starscream isn't about to argue with their findings.

It just so happens that he is a carrier, which puts him above the other mechs he knows, minus Shockwave, a few of the gestalts, and assorted Autobots. How convenient, that most of his main enemies also happen to be carriers, but he can settle. Megatron isn't one, which is a victory in itself. Cybertron is in the process of reverting to pre-war conditions. Reconstruction efforts are going well. Vos is already thriving with new arrivals; the Flight Academy is reestablished, primarily to train scouting fliers. Word hasn't gotten around completely that the war has ended, and seekers are the designated messengers to spread that word. It's no wonder. They _are_ the fastest.

Starscream presently enjoys being a flight instructor, though he admits his reasons for accepting the employment are not wholesome as publicized. He likes to lord it over his old instructors, certainly - the ones that have survived this many years, anyway. They did so love to reassert his inferiority. He likes the control, and he especially likes testing limits of what he is and isn't allowed to do. Surprisingly, they allow him to send several of his training teams on races through semi-populated areas. And he occasionally brings in his trinemates for demonstrations, though they technically don't have visitor's permits. He's even managed to procure a few volatile distilments for his experiments without consequences. (He is barely pushing it, for now. He'll have to up the ante later.)

So, being that he's better off than many other carriers, he is not taken aback in the slightest to have breeders clamoring for his attention.

Though allowed basic freedoms - careers, entertainment, survival necessities that are more than satisfactory - creators, or as the femmes like to call them, breeders, are entirely up for purchase. Those mechs and femmes who are better suited to lending their spark signature than being host to a developing spark live within easily accessible communal housing. Carriers visit to pick and choose which creators they want, sometimes investigating the state of someone's room or observing as a guest before they pay up. The disclosure agreement is signed, and the breeder is theirs with the designated number of credits. A new roommate, berth partner, anything the carrier wants. The main purpose of this is procreation, without denial; Cybertron's population is dismal and the hopes of the leading, carrier femmes are to bring up a new, peaceful generation.

Pfft, as if it's any concern of his. What this system _really_ serves to do is give him ample space to flaunt.

Starscream is one of few carriers who has not purchased yet. It is the reason for his visit today; he makes sure this place is renowned for the intelligence of its inhabitants. The seeker crafts his own arrival as though he's stopping by to assuage boredom, nothing more. He truly intends to choose his first breeder. The crowd does not disappoint.

There are somewhere between thirty and fifty mechs or femmes in this particular complex - he recognizes some from the Flight Academy (eugh, the Rainmakers) and some from skirmishes with the Autobots (Trails? Tracks, was it?), but there are plenty of new faces. Some of them coyly court his attention, others obviously rally for it, and still others are poised and polite. Amazing how desperate they are; as far as they know, he's only here for amusement, not to buy one of them. A femme skitters around him, marketing sleek lines and glossy wheel wells. Mechs subtly rotate hip struts, or, if they're seekers, broaden the display of their wings.

It's boring, all of it. He wants an interesting breeder, and though having mecha fighting over the privilege of being his is gratifying, it is simply not enough. Starscream strikes up conversation with the mech who is in charge, a carrier named Highspeed (so _very_ original), and is taken into the main office of operations. It is there that he divulges his goal; he doesn't want the mechs here to know his purpose is a serious one. It would take away from the opportunity to see their true colours, to see who and what he'd actually be buying.

"What is the credit range you are looking at?"

Starscream quirks a brow ridge at Highspeed. "Unlimited."

Highspeed seems surprised; undoubtedly, he doesn't get out much. Starscream has quite the name these days, and for once, in a good way. That's not to say his devious reputation's been completely washed away, but it's more diluted than it used to be. Less...traitor-y. 

"Very nice selection you have, then. This datapad--" Highspeed hands it over-- "contains detailed profiles of the breeders at this location. Perhaps it will make the choosing easier."

The seeker peruses it, taking his time, only investigating those with a name or particular trait he finds intriguing. Until he pauses, and he double-checks the list to be certain he is reading accurately. His optics may be deceiving him. "Are you sure this is correct?"

Highspeed frowns. "Yes, why?"

Starscream is taken aback, but does not display it openly, instead shrugging off his question in a casual manner. Highspeed resumes sifting through his desk drawer as the seeker contemplates the information on the datapad. It's strange--Starscream hasn't heard of anyone from the war still being on the market--as soon as carriers collected enough credits, those were the first to go, incredibly popular as they were. If he were to guess, that purchase rush stemmed from either lust or spite with few-to-no midway markers. Yet it would seem this mech has escaped acquisition. Starscream snorts softly to himself--of course, he's probably managed to do that on purpose. Sneaky, sneaky.

"Do you provide room tours?"

"Normally, no, but for buyers in your division I might make an exception. Anyone particular you had in mind?"

Starscream puts on his best thoughtful expression. "Is Soundwave present at this time?"

Highspeed is once again surprised, but Starscream gives the mech free range to be surprised by that statement. It's not a question to be heard often. The monotonous cassette deck wouldn't attract many prospective buyers. So very characteristically clever. "Er, Soundwave is employed as a technical director at a facility not far from here--he will be back within three groons, I should think."

"Hmm. In that case, a tour would be the perfect precedent to his return. His room is where, exactly?" Starscream eases languidly through his words, enjoying how simple it is to manipulate. Highspeed cannot even think of a way to protest, sputtering for a few moments, and "might make an exception" turns into "will" as Highspeed leads him exactly where he wants to go.

The seeker admires the well-kept, organized, and completely _detached_ space. He didn't expect anything less than impersonal, and Soundwave did not disappoint. Starscream would very much like to know how the cassette player managed to avoid being bought with a room that spotless--ah, yes, something to do with the condition of hiding his face. Or disguising his voice. Maybe the tape deck throws that edge of disdain in with his vocoder when he has to interact with carriers; maybe he plays the silent game of antipathy. Starscream is decided, the sweet taste of victory sharp on his glossa as he picks paint off the wall. Stoicism, dryness, unpleasantry and austerity--no, even all the secrecy in the world, won't save Soundwave _now_.

The seeker revels in shocking Highspeed further when he makes it clear that he intends to stay the entire three groons before Soundwave's arrival. He spends this time chatting, surveying the rest of the complex--recreational areas, cafeteria, the public oil baths. Starscream doubtlessly toys with the other creators in the place.

They still hassle, battling to outdo the others and earn the respect of being a high-class breeder, and Starscream plays along. Encourages their fruitless endeavour. It may be cruel to raise their hopes, but he justifies they deserve it for their total lack of restraint. Their attempts do not impress him and do not change his mind; they do make for copious amounts of entertainment. He sorely needs that much if he is to be patient.

Patience, the seeker's subroutines hiss. Highspeed informs him of Soundwave's return sooner than he expected, but he must continue to play nice with--Bitmap?--until the mech signs in. Highspeed asks Starscream (in a roundabout, mannerly sort of way, eugh) to wait in the office while he addresses Soundwave. Thank Primus. The other mechs and femmes are upset as he saunters behind the closed door, the lot of them waiting patiently to see who the complex's director speaks to first. Bitmap, if that is his designation, appears smug, and Starscream, if he cared, would pity the mech.

Oh, this is almost too good. The spy (Starscream refuses to believe Soundwave has given up that business even after the war's end) is a former rival--and one who has no choice but to submit and surrender. How Starscream cherishes triumph.

The door slides open to signify Highspeed's entry with Soundwave in tow. Starscream winks at the prolonged stare he receives, coating the competitive undertones of this whole thing in dripping, playful politeness. This is no liberation scheme. The Decepticon agenda has never been much in comparison to his own, and he knows that if Soundwave is reading him, he'll see the flipside. After a moment, the cassette player's focus shifts to Highspeed. Hmm. No response. Starscream will have to work on that.

The director hands Starscream another, considerably more refined datapad, instructing him to fill out the forms contained within. He completes the transaction--what are thousands of credits?--and Soundwave is his possession. Soundwave only stands through it, fine details of his frame stationary as a museum display. Highspeed gives the mech extended time to pack the belongings he wishes to take (this is after Starscream makes it obvious that he's not leaving without his prize). So near the exit the seeker waits, leering at a mech in the open entryway who has the audacity to pout.

What a shame, Soundwave is no longer 'technical director', wherever he was. Another will take his place. He truly should consider himself fortunate, to be Starscream's first, and solitary as of yet, breeder. An honour, for the scores of creators. Perhaps not from Soundwave's perspective, but oh, well. Mechs can be taught. 

The seeker drinks in the tangible disappointment of the others' EMFs; Soundwave meets him, any personal items stowed safely in his subspace. Thus far, the mech has not spoken one word to him. Alright, alright, there are things they can do _without_ words. Serious or no, Starscream broadcasts that thought on purpose, and the spy's servo twitches nigh unnoticeably. That makes the seeker wonder to what degree Soundwave's obedience extends--he does, legally, own the mech, and without doubt Soundwave is compliant--but how far could he push it?

Reality hits him, beautifully--he has all the time in the world to find out. The solar cycle is barely half-over. And he has the opportunity to reduce this icy, cut-and-dry mech to his plaything. How droll.

The few resurfaced media networks will be all over this.

\- - - - -

Soundwave is careful to mask his reactions; Starscream delights in those, and always has. It is not horribly difficult, just as it was not in the past, to ignore the seeker. Though he didn't anticipate being dragged home--and admits he rather expected this to be Megatron's fate--Starscream is rarely surprising. There is always the attitude of petty rivalry, with no reason or rhyme driving it.

He made it perfectly clear that he was content with his rank during the war; as he should have been, what with the coarse nature of climbing to TIC. He had no business interfering with Starscream's orders as long as they coincided with Megatron's. He has no record of insinuating a competition, let alone the act of directly challenging Starscream. And yet the only general feeling that materializes around the edges of the seeker's processor is smug victory. Victory over _what_? The seeker has no way to assume he holds himself superior (which he does, of course, but that's because he isn't rude and doesn't _whine_ ).

And no, he does not believe internal complaint constitutes whining. Soundwave is entitled to lamenting the loss of his freedom, especially as he doesn't have to verbally express it.

It bothers him that Starscream's EM field is swelling in pride as the lift delivers them to the penthouse of this luxury condominium (luxury, penthouse, what a shocker). The keypad ensures that only those with clearance can enter. Soundwave does not discredit the security measures the paranoid seeker must have in place here. The doors slide open, parting to reveal total grandeur. He thinks it fitting, but won't deny it is nice simply because of whom it belongs to. The mech has secured a modern space, with a definitive and not entirely obnoxious style. Space is the best word to describe the flat; the room around him is very, very expansive. And messy, but he expected that, too.

"The view is my favourite," Starscream declares, arms crossed, staring at him as though waiting for Soundwave to inspect the wall of glass on the left side of the open floor plan.

Soundwave stares back for a klik before realizing that yes, Starscream _is_ waiting for him to inspect the wall of glass. He does. He nods. He isn't too familiar with Vos, but rows of city stretch out from here, and he would call it picturesque if he were going to say anything. It's not the most spectacular thing he's seen--not fully recovered from the war, anyway. Instead, the cassette deck contents himself with simply looking. He wonders if this is a reconstructed building or one that survived so many millennia.

"Come on," Starscream demands, servo firmly on his arm--he stops himself from reacting with aggression at the sudden contact--and the seeker pulls him through the main room, which apparently serves as a dining and recreational area. Soundwave is led down the hallway adjacent to it. Starscream opens one of the doors, curiously all on the left like the wall of windows; Soundwave pauses.

Starscream is fast, but he didn't expect to be taken in here _this_ quickly. Or at all. He may have to reassess Starscream's motivations; was he missing something? The seeker laughs as if he can tell what Soundwave is thinking. Soundwave knows the anxiety that follows is unreasonable, but since he himself is a telepath, the spark-twisting concern persists.

This is Starscream's room, indisputably. The taste in decor and colour, some straggling evidence of Starscream's position as a flight instructor, and the barely-concealed scorch marks in the far right corner of the room tell him that much. Otherwise, the space is pristine. The lab--surely Starscream has more time to spend in it now--must be elsewhere, then. During the war, the two places were one and the same, and it was a veritable nightmare.

He is still at a loss as to how someone can recharge in such cramped, chaotic surroundings. Starscream cannot intimidate him, but Primus, recharging almost on top of an unstable particle accelerator? _That_ , he finds frightening.

"Satisfactory?" Starscream snickers, almost mocking. It's not really a question; Soundwave knows it has to be satisfactory or he's in trouble, and Starscream knows it too.

He opts to nod again instead of speaking. Soundwave doesn't pry at Starscream's mind; half the time the experience is painful due to the sheer force of the seeker's emotions, and besides, he can usually guess by expression alone what Starscream is up to.

True to point, Starscream grins at him (that is not a friendly grin; he doesn't like it) and runs a digit down the seam of his mask. He won't be comfortable with retracting either mask or visor. He doesn't think he will have a choice if commanded. There is no Megatron to mediate the seeker's orders here, and Soundwave is wary of beginning confrontation this early on. He freezes, opting for immobility over recoiling - he does not, he does _not_ want an interface experience. Hopefully, Starscream is playing a game in which winning does not involve data-ports and connectors.

"Left side is yours, if you want to get settled. Washroom is through there," the seeker purrs, pointing to the opening conveniently on 'Soundwave's side'.

"Come out to the main room when you're done. We're having company. They ought to be here soon."

Soundwave's nod is near imperceptible this time, and Starscream struts out of the berthroom. The spy avoids watching the intentional swivel of his hip joints as he moves; he won't participate in this contest of tempt-to-conquer. There is only one berth. It's sizeable. The tape deck knows there isn't anything he can do about this, but he would rather not be recharging so close to Starscream, even if the mech is certifiably his owner. "Backstabber" was not always used in figurative terms.

Such a great new system this is. He applauds the femmes--wishing a bit bitterly that he were an exception to "creator" because of his cassettes. (Which cuts a sore note into his spark; their creation and carrying abilities are yet to be determined, and he has not seen them since "relocation.") He surveys his surroundings more closely now that Starscream is gone, meandering around a bit. Nothing occupies his subspace to put on "his side," so he uses the time to explore.

Anything personal he would have kept up until this point was destroyed within the first half of the war, so he figured it pointless to try and accumulate anything else. He takes a curious look at the washroom, which is enormous (so far, so many surprises...his processor is unusually sarcastic today). It's where he stays for what feels like kliks; Soundwave does not have a particularly strong desire to leave the space and meet any company. Eventually, he knows he'll have to act as Starscream bids him.

And this is one situation in which Soundwave can safely say he has no idea what he's doing.

\- - - - -

Skywarp yawns, stretching out over Thundercracker's lap. "Do we _have_ to go?"

Thundercracker laughs, fondly tracing his mate's cockpit. "Don't complain too much."

It doesn't bother him half as much as it does Skywarp that Starscream asked them to drop by. Well, 'asking' might not be the best term to use, but it was more of an...obligatory invitation, than a command. It's as close to asking as Starscream's ever going to get.

"But he said he had a surprise, TC. You know what that means. I'm all for a prank or something, but I don't feel like getting in real trouble."

"Aw, come on. 'Surprise' could just be something he wants to show off, too. Screamer's having too much fun as a flight instructor to start scheming. And he has great high-grade. The real deal. It's not gonna kill you to socialize."

"We socialize with him every solar cycle. I'd rather have fun..." Skywarp's servo sneaks up to Thundercracker's chassis, fluttering over his chestplates to hover over the thrum of his spark, "...here."

"Later, 'Warp. Promise."

Skywarp snorts and wriggles off of the other seeker. He stands, rolling a stiff joint in his arm. "Frag, I guess, fine. But you better make it good. I don't wanna have to do anything at all," he says, and says it like a challenge.

Thundercracker raises an optic ridge. "So the usual?"

Skywarp opens his mouth to try and retort, but relents. "Okay," he groans, "you got me. Set myself up for that one. Do you know where the airhorn is? If we have to go, I'm bringing my own surprise."

"That's not the best idea you've ever had," Thundercracker says, discreetly trying to dissuade him, but Skywarp is already searching their living space for the misplaced object.

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, so this is an idea that wouldn't quit my head, and I want to know if you want me to keep it up. I have a set plot and everything for it, and fair warning that I'll be updating Addiction first, but I like this one so far. What do you think? Should I stick with long chapters like the other fic or go to 2-3K for this one? I'm cool with either, honestly. Love you guys!


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